


When Did The Lies Begin?

by Madizenmadi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, M/M, Nationverse, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23587039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madizenmadi/pseuds/Madizenmadi
Summary: 1939 - Ivan and Gilbert meet at the signing of the Non-Aggression Pact (Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact) between Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union. Gilbert gives Ivan a warning for Germany's future plans in the East.Two years later, Ivan meets Gilbert at the front, and is stunned with his betrayal.
Relationships: Prussia/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	When Did The Lies Begin?

**Author's Note:**

> I know World War II is vastly overwritten for this pairing, but I wanted to write my own version of how things went down during the signing of the pact. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy

Ivan never doubted his trust in Gilbert. Not while they warred as ignorant children, not while the Napoleonic Wars were ravaging Europe, and not while the Great War tore his country to pieces. Tensions rise, countries fight, ally, and repeat, but at the base of it all, Ivan and Gilbert alike knew it was just the cycle of history and truly had nothing to do with them; they would always be there for one another.

This new war declared seemed.. different, but Ivan held his trust in Gilbert on his way to Poland and decided he needed to push his worry aside. He knew times had changed: since the Great War and the his revolution, everything was changing so rapidly and Ivan was struggling to keep up. But, even when the world was trudging through the Seven Years War and bustling through the Industrial Revolution, the core of everything remained the same. This rapid change would slow down soon enough, and everything would recede back to a normal pace. He shouldn't begin to worry now.

Upon arrival, he was greeted by a grand, golden room and men in black uniforms, the stripe of bright red cloth housing their national symbol on their left arms. He paid no mind towards the such and searched for the softer red he'd rather see. 

Gilbert sat at the table behind the men, legs crossed and stature relaxed. Ivan felt himself swoon at his easily administered dominance, how he could just sit in a chair and still radiate power. His white features were blindingly contrasting to the black uniform, alluring Ivan to marvel at how attractive his lover truly was, and how his diplomacy was just as handsome. 

Words of Russian and German alike erupted through the room, causing Gilbert to glance up and catch Ivan's gaze. He gave a small smirk, his eyes glinting with pride. Ivan gave him a grin back and seated himself at the chair across from him. 

"Hello," he greeted. Gilbert's smile widened and he leaned forward in his seat, resting his gloved hands on the wooden table. 

"Hello." 

"Awful lot of people, don't you say?" 

"Too many for my liking. The diplomacy doesn't call for so many opinions. But of course, the Fuhrer likes to be precise in his politics with communists."

"Ouch," Ivan mocked offense, a hand on his heart. 

"Don't let it sting you too deep," Gilbert chuckled. "You know of fascist opinions regarding your ideology."

"Then, I guess you'd just better keep an eye on me, da?" Ivan teased, sliding a hand to grip up his leg.

"I always do." He leaned forward, allowing Ivan's hand to trail higher up his thigh. The Russian watched the mischievous dance in Gilbert's blood red eyes and found himself delighted in their little games they played. "Of course, you know I'm not the only one watching you, Vanya. You may want to keep your straying hands to yourself while in public." 

Ivan gave a laugh. "You mean the fellow at my four o'clock? He can't see me everywhere from that angle." He removed his hand and leaned back. "Tell your boss to get smarter men."

"No one can outsmart you, Soviet Union. You're putting my officers at an unfair disadvantage." 

"Then Hitler will have to trust you to keep an eye on me, da?"

Gilbert opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by the call for the meeting to start. He leaned towards Ivan's ear, voice so quiet Ivan hardly heard him through the noises made by the men taking their seats. 

"After the meeting, I'll be in room 7E. I don't have long, so don't keep me waiting."

Ivan looked at him, confused on his sudden mood change. He gave a slight nod. Gilbert gazed at his face a second longer then stood and made his way beside his fellow officials. 

Something about his expression didn't sit right with Ivan. 

The meeting was an interminable one, loud and tense under a mask of alliance. He'd catch Gilbert's gaze every now and then, but didn't dare keep it for too long, nor did he seek his gaze too often. Nazis and Soviets alike had eyes on them like hawks. 

Eventually, men were standing, smiling and shaking hands. Ivan smiled and shook hands while the room slowly lost its capacity. He glanced at his men standing over in the corner and slipped out of the room while they were busy talking to the Germans. 

He scanned the hallways, searching for room 7E before his scarf was suddenly yanked and he was pulled into a room. He almost punched the person before he realized it was Gilbert. 

"Gilbert? Is something wrong?" he asked, noticing Gilbert as he investigated around the room. "What are you doing?"

Gilbert didn't answer until he'd circled the room, checking under desks and inside lamps. He then made sure the door was locked and then walked over to Ivan, hugging him tight. The sudden desperation caught him off guard.

"Gilbert?" Ivan repeated. He wrapped his arms around the albino, confusion and concern pressing at his head. 

"I don't trust him and neither should you," he said. He spoke in a whisper so quiet Ivan had to pull away and lean down. 

"What?" 

"Hitler," Gilbert said, finally looking up to him. His eyes were dull, scared and worried. Ivan took a couple moments to process the situation. Then he took another second to realize what Gilbert was doing was treason, if he was truly saying what Ivan thought. 

"Wait, Gilbert, what?" He kept his voice in a whisper too. Taking Gilbert's face in his hands, he looked, unwavering, into Gilbert's eyes. "What are you doing?" 

"I-" Gilbert's voice fell and he took a breath, glancing at the door with fear and uncertainty in his eyes. "I shouldn't be saying this, but he's planning something, Ivan, and I don't know what it is but I know it can't be a split Poland between the country he despises."

Ivan blinked, taking in his words. Obviously, he knew the tensions and the hatred between fascists and communists. Hitler and Stalin hated each other, propaganda against the Germans ran through his own country and he knew Hitler gave his own damning words of the Soviet Union. And, with Germany invading more and more countries daily, it wasn't far off to assume they had plans for the Soviet Union as well. Granted, that was stupid. 

"Look. I'm not officially telling you anything, okay?" His eyes moved up to Ivan's once more; they were docile and desperate, pleading Ivan to take his warning. "But, I would keep a watch at the border." He paused. "Just in case."

Ivan watched him carefully, seeing how torn and scared he was. Eventually, he gave a small nod. Gilbert's shoulders went lax as he exhaled in relief. 

"Okay. Good." He straightened up again, adjusting his black uniform. "Now, I must go, I've been gone too long already." 

"Wait," Ivan said as he turned to leave, grabbing his hand and gripping it gently. Gilbert looked up at him, eyes glimmering soft behind a dull exhaustion. Ivan wanted nothing more than to hold him and pretend everything was alright, but he knew he couldn't, not now. 

Gilbert was still looking at him through his thoughtful pause. Ivan let his face fall into a gentle sincerity. 

"Be careful," he whispered. "Please." 

They kept each other's gaze for a few moments, then Gilbert smiled. "I've been through worse wars."

"You and I both know times are changing," Ivan reasoned. Gilbert swallowed and Ivan knew he was thinking about the last war. "Just, please, promise me you'll be careful." 

The Prussian looked at him with eyes that battled tears. "I will." He gave a squeeze to Ivan's hand. "I love you, Ivan." 

A lump formed in Ivan's throat. He didn't want Gilbert to go. "I love you, too," he whispered. He squeezed Gilbert's hand one last time before the man let go and quickly left. 

Ivan tried not to feel the pressure that weighed on his chest. Gilbert was strong, he'd be okay. Ivan was strong, he'd be okay. Gilbert warned him about Germany's possible plans, there was now a buffer zone between the Third Reich and the Soviet Union; everything would be okay. 

Everything will work out. Soon, the path will play out, and after a brief war, the world will calm down again. 

Everything would be fine.

Ivan exhaled and stood up straight again. He pushed away all of his doubts, straightened his clothes, and left the room. 

//

In the end, he took advantage of Gilbert's warning. He trained troops, protected his borders, and kept watch constantly. 

Occasionally, he met with Gilbert inside a collapsing Polish pub not far from the border. Each time they met, Ivan could feel the strain in Gilbert's body, the tension in his muscles, even when they lied together. He could see the exhaustion pulling at his eyes and how it began to morphe into a constant emotionless stare

He began to grow distant, too, always shying away from Ivan's condolences and making it out like he was fine and nothing was happening back West. Ivan knew he was hiding something from him, he knew something was wrong, but the Prussian would always sway away from Ivan's concerned questions. Gilbert tried to hide it, but Ivan knew Gilbert better than anyone: he was changing, conforming. Ivan blamed it on his prior dissolution, on his brother, on his government and leader. He did not believe Gilbert would conform.

Because he trusted Gilbert, like he always had.

Until Gilbert stopped coming to the pub. 

Until fire broke out at the front, men roaring and machines screaming.

Until he saw Gilbert, face hard while he raised a gun to Ivan's chest and shot without hesitation. 

Then, he thought to himself while he laid, bleeding out into the snow, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯?

**Author's Note:**

> Now that I think about it, I might make this a small series, because I also really want to write for other parts of the Eastern Theatre, such as battles at Stalingrad. Should I? 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated! 💕


End file.
